The blows will fall on Sancho.

Jean, my friend, you forgot the _octroi_.
_Jean._ The _octroi_! What has that to do with your butter?
_Paul._ To-morrow I will demand _protection_, and I will induce the Council to prohibit the butter of Normandy and Brittany.

The people must do without butter, or buy mine, and that at my price, too.
_Jean._ Gentlemen, your philanthropy carries me along with it.

"In time one learns to howl with the wolves." It shall not be said that I am an unworthy Alderman.

Pierre, this sparkling fire has illumined your soul; Paul, this butter has given an impulse to your understanding, and I perceive that this piece of salt pork stimulates my intelligence.
To-morrow I will vote myself, and make others vote, for the exclusion of hogs, dead or alive; this done, I will build superb stock-yards in the middle of Paris "for the unclean animal forbidden to the Hebrews." I will become swineherd and pork-seller, and we shall see how the good people of Lutetia can help getting their food at my shop.
_Pierre._ Gently, my friends; if you thus run up the price of butter and salt meat, you diminish the profit which I expected from my wood.
_Paul._ Nor is my speculation so wonderful, if you ruin me with your fuel and your hams.
_Jean._ What shall I gain by making you pay an extra price for my sausages, if you overcharge me for pastry and fagots?
_Pierre._ Do you not see that we are getting into a quarrel?
Let us rather unite.